My breakfast this morning was a cup of coffee (a little milk, a lot of raw sugar) and a slice of cold five-meat (yes, five!), the latter balanced on my knee as I read through a few pages of the current book I’m trying to blow through for my 100 Books project, perched on my bed, still in my pajamas. The sun is only just starting to climb up from its rest beyond the horizon, giving the sky through the windows of my apartment a hazy, faded look, and I am supremely content. These are the mornings that I love, the mornings that usually lead to a longer day of writing and reading and feeling overly productive in the pursuit of my dream.
These are the mornings I have not had enough of lately.
I have come to terms with the fact that December, especially as long as my day job involves the retail business, are going to be haphazard, uncontrollable, and mostly insane. I have missed more blog posts, more RoW80 check-ins, more page and word count goals this December than I have any other month, and this is definitely because there have maybe been one or two mornings like this morning all month. Between a crazy work schedule filled with insanely busy days, trying to balance a social life, and trying to make plans that might actually allow me to go home to see my family for Christmas (even if it means traveling most of Christmas day itself), there has simply not been enough time.
Sometimes, I feel guilty about this. How can I ever expect to be a writer if I can’t bust through the challenges of anything life throws at me? How can I ever take this seriously if I allow myself to spend that evening after work socializing with coworkers or trying to sort out my sordid mess of a love life? How can I ever hope to get out of my financial rut if I’m not dedicating every hour outside of my paying job to create something printable, publishable, and, most importantly, payable?
But not often. December, after all, is only one month of a year, and a very strange and different month, at that. It’s the end of the year, there’s Christmas to contend with, and it seems to live by rules different than the other month. It’s okay to let oneself go a little in December; this is the last of it, my friends, and next month in January, not only a new month, but a whole new year, as well, filled with bright beginnings, new challenges, and a fresh perspective on life. December may be fraught with equal parts stress and celebration, a constant roller coaster between soul-sucking work and spirit-lifting friendship, but it’s only 31 days, and then it’s all over and a new month, a new attempt at life begins again.
We just have to take things each day at a time, not worry about the potential failures to get this or that arbitrary goal finished, be glad for the little moments of happiness that will slip in frequently amid the stress, and, most importantly, enjoy and appreciate these rare moments of coffee and cold pizza when they manage to show up.